


Our Mutual Advantage

by Cantatrice18



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blackmail, Disfigurement, Drama, Gen, Missing Scene, Negotiations, One Shot, Political Alliances, Self-Harm, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24705913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: Ulfric meets with Elisif in the Blue Palace following the Battle for Solitude. There he realizes that there might be more to the young Jarl than everyone seems to believe.The real reason Elisif gets to keep her throne.
Kudos: 7





	Our Mutual Advantage

“My Lord, you should consider it.”

Ulfric exhaled through his beaked nose, trying not to let annoyance get the best of him. “And what would you have me do, Istar? Wed and bed her? She’s Torygg’s widow, for the Gods’ sakes.”

“She is popular,” the Commander pressed. “Even those whose loyalty to the Empire is questionable still find it in their hearts to support Jarl Elisif.”

“How would it look, then?” Ulfric demanded, leaning on the map table with both fists. “Kill the husband, marry the wife? People would think it obscene, and they’d be right.”

“It’s been done many times before, and with great success,” the Commander insisted doggedly. “It would be viewed as an act of reconciliation: reaching out to the Imperial sympathizers, letting them know their voices will still be heard.”

“Damn their voices,” Galmar grunted. “I say kill the bitch and her followers, and hang them from the city walls. That will show the remaining Imperials what happens to traitors.”

“An appealing notion, certainly,” Ulfric commented dryly. “But first we must reclaim the city for ourselves. Let us turn our attention back to the more pressing matter of war, and leave distasteful subjects for later.”

…

“My King, she is waiting in her—in the Royal Bedroom,” the messenger stuttered. A pink flush tinged the tops of his ears. 

Ulfric pursed his lips. He could tell what the messenger boy was imagining, and the thought was not an enticing one. Solitude had fallen just hours before, and his troops still required his attention. Yet here he was, on the steps of the Blue Palace, hesitating like a youth of eighteen. With a shake of his head, he brushed past the messenger and through the doors of the imposing building. 

The royals of Skyrim had their own personal wing within the Palace, with a cadre of domestics to wait upon them. Ulfric caught glimpses of these servants as he ascended the graceful staircase. All eyed him with the mixture of terror and dislike he’d grown accustomed to in the weeks since he began conquering Imperial territory. He ignored the onlookers and made his way to the private chambers of Skyrim’s Kings and Queens. A pair of courtiers waited at the end of the hall, clearly in the midst of an argument. Both wore fine rainment that had seen better days. As Ulfric approached, they broke apart, and Ulfric recognized the man. “Falk Firebeard,” he said cautiously. “What brings you to the Royal chambers on such a day?”

The woman Falk had been fighting with rested a hand on his arm, but Falk ignored her. “Only this, my Lord—” the woman nudged him, “my King,” he corrected. He glanced behind him at the bedroom door. “Jarl Elisif awaits you. And I, as her loyal steward, serve at her pleasure.”

“Do you intend to interfere?” Ulfric asked, a note of warning in his voice.

“He does not, your Majesty,” the woman interrupted breathily. She was vaguely familiar, and he guessed her to be one of Elisif’s thanes.

“I shall not interfere with whatever you have in store for my Lady,” Falk said haltingly. “But I shall stand. Here. Outside this door.”

“And listen?” Ulfric asked, brow raised.

“And witness, my lord King.” Falk’s expression was set. “Whatever happens to Elisif this day, I shall act as witness to it.”

Ulfric’s desire to draw his sword and dispatch both steward and thane nearly got the better of him. But he stayed his hand. “Very well, then. Eavesdrop.” He smiled wolfishly. “I always did enjoy an audience.”

Enjoying Falk’s look of horror, he pushed past both courtiers and into the bedroom. 

Elisif sat by the window, looking out at the sea with her back to him. She did not turn as he entered, but her spine grew rigid and her left hand clenched. “Ulfric,” she said shortly.

“Elisif,” he shot back, ignoring the titles she no doubt still felt she deserved. She was as neatly dressed as if she were about to hold court, her hair brushed smooth and her circlet crown shining. It was as though nothing had changed from that fateful day when he’d destroyed her husband with one shout. She was loveliness personified, and it annoyed him no end. 

“It seems you have not suffered alongside your people,” he jibed. 

Her shoulders tightened, but still she did not turn. “I have suffered each day since Torygg’s murder. This day is no different.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Ulfric felt the beginnings of rage stir within him. “Your city is in ruins, your people lie dead or defeated. Look at me when I speak to you!”

He strode forward, grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her to face him, then cried out in alarm.

Elisif’s face was a web of deep, jagged cuts. One eye was swollen shut, while the other stared blindly ahead. Behind her on the desk, Ulfric spied a long elven dagger, still red with blood. “Talos defend me, what did you do, woman?” Ulfric murmured.

“I did what was necessary,” Elisif replied. “to defend myself and my honor. My beauty was a curse, and now it’s gone. And everyone will blame you.” She smiled lopsidedly, wincing as the corner of her mouth split open and began to bleed. “Ulfric the Hero, attacking a helpless woman. Ulfric the Valiant, disfiguring the greatest beauty in Skyrim.”

“You’re mad,” Ulfric replied shakily. “No one will believe it.”

“Mad, am I?” Elisif queried. “Well, I’ll make that your fault as well. Tortured into insanity by Ulfric the All-Powerful.”

“My people know I would never do such a thing,” Ulfric protested.

“Do they?” Elisif cocked her head. “They believe you capable of ravishing me, don’t they? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? And you did murder my husband in cold blood, didn’t you? I think the people will believe what they see. And oh, what a sight I am to behold.”

“Healer,” Ulfric said suddenly, backing quickly toward the door. “We’ll get a healer.”

“One step further and I slit my own throat,” Elisif warned, the dagger appearing in her hand. “Then you’ll have even more to explain.”

Ulfric slowed, then halted. “Good,” Elisif said gloatingly. “Sit down.”

He obeyed, claiming a chair by the far wall. “What do you want, Elisif,” he asked warily. “You must want something.”

“Oh, I most certainly do want _something_ ,” Elisif replied mockingly. “I want my lands and my people back.”

“What?” Ulfric said, taken aback.

“Solitude. Haafingar.” Elisif’s jaw clenched. “I want to remain the Jarl, with no challenges or threats to my authority. I want your full backing and protection, but as for the decision-making, that falls to me. You understand?”

“Perfectly,” Ulfric answered. “And what, pray tell, should my response be when my allies ask why the wife of a traitor still sits on the throne of Skyrim’s capital province?”

“Tell them it was for mercy’s sake,” Elisif explained slowly, as if to a child. “Say you pardoned me and chose to work together, rather than exact revenge. You’ll appear compassionate and above reproach, I promise you.”

“I don’t suppose you’re prepared to negotiate on this,” Ulfric said dryly. “No, I thought not,” he sighed as she shook her head. “Very well then. You keep Haafingar. But I expect loyalty from my Jarls.”

“And you shall receive it,” Elisif answered loftily. “We have a deal, then?”

Ulfric nodded grudgingly.

“Excellent,” she said, and he could hear the relief in her voice. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind calling that healer . . .”

Ulfric stood at once and hurried to the door. He stepped out into the hall only to find Falk Firebeard standing with a robed man who held potion bottles in his hands. “Her majesty called for a healer?” the robed man asked Ulfric.

Ulfric nodded, bemused, and watched as the robed man bustled into the room, shutting the door behind him. Turning, Ulfric caught sight of Falk Firebeard and paused. “You knew,” he said slowly. “You knew what she had planned.”

Falk shook his head nervously. “No, my liege. She only told me that she’d need a healer after you left. I assumed—”

“That I’d be the one harming her,” Ulfric finished for him. “You thought I’d be so violent with her that she’d need a healer afterwards.” A thought dawned on him. “She didn’t know you stayed, though, did she?”

Falk shook his head. “I decided to act as witness on my own. I wanted to be able to report exactly what you’d done to her, you see.”

“A noble action,” Ulfric conceded. “But in the end, you overheard something quite different, didn’t you?” Falk nodded and Ulfric’s lip curled. “Tell me, was your Lady always this shrewd and calculating?”

“She has learned much from her time on the throne,” Falk said carefully. “I believe, however, that she has always had an innate gift for politics.”

“It would seem so.”

Ulfric thought back to that conversation, long ago, with Commander Istar. Back then the thought of marriage with a pawn like Elisif had been repugnant. Now, however, he saw her in quite a different light. She had successfully held his reputation ransom and achieved her goal in less than half an hour. It was a master stroke, and it made him wonder just how well she would have fared as High Queen. Regardless, he had some thinking to do before the next time he saw her. It might be time for him to reconsider matrimony.


End file.
